


Flashing Lights

by revampired



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Battle of Hogwarts, Brief Torture, Durmstrang Victor, M/M, Minor Violence, Weepy Sex, of the HP variety, so no blood and guts or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revampired/pseuds/revampired
Summary: When Yuuri and Viktor are separated during the Battle of Hogwarts, it takes all of Yuuri's energy to hold it together and keep fighting.





	1. A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Hopping on the Harry Potter bandwagon, because I loooooove HP. There's been such a great collection of fanart and fanfic on tumblr recently that I got hit with a rush of inspiration. Plus, I really want to practice writing fight scenes (not that there's much of that in this chapter, but next time.) 
> 
> I wrote this in about 1.5 hours in between packing, but hopefully there aren't any typos. Next chapter about a week from now! 
> 
> Also, just a heads up, 17 y/o Yuuri has sex with 20 y/o Viktor, but it's not super graphic and it seemed... A little excessive to add an "underage" tag.

It happened in a split second.

If Yuuri had blinked, he would have missed the bright green spell reverberating off the stone walls of the hallway, the loud  _crack_  as it hit the supports, the low rumble of crumbling stone as the world collapsed all around them.

In an instant, his hand went from warm, clasping at Viktor’s as they ran with wands at the ready, to an unbearable empty cold as Viktor jolted back to avoid the cracked rock falling from the ceiling. There was a low roar as the castle cried out in pain, Phichit grabbing him and pulling him away from the avalanche, and the last glimpses Yuuri caught before they were separated were Viktor’s bright blue eyes screwed up in determination and a flash of light-

The hallway filled with rubble, and everything was deadly silent. 

* * *

“Viktor,” Yuuri screamed, pulling out of Phichit’s grip to attempt to scale the blocked-up hallway, “ _Viktor!_ ”

A cackle of laughter came from the path beyond the rocks, and Yuuri  _wailed_  as he beat his fist against them.

“Yuuri,” Phichit shouted, arms wrapping fully around his midsection, “We need to get out of here, we need to keep going-”

“I can’t leave him,” Yuuri sobbed, “I can’t, they were so close behind us...”

A bright flash of red light exploded somewhere above them, and Phichit swore loudly. He gripped Yuuri and shook him, staring right into his watery brown eyes.

“Yuuri,” he hissed, “Please, look at me. There’s nothing we can do right now except get out of here. Get somewhere safe.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri moaned in anguish.

“Viktor wouldn’t want us to die here!” Phichit cried, grabbing Yuuri and  _dragging_  him away as more spells barely missed them. Hexes, curses, the dreaded Avada Kedavra... 

Yuuri followed, numbly, eyes trained on the fallen rocks separating him from his beloved. They ran, and ran, and ran from the Death Eaters chasing them, through winding passageways that seemed to open up in front of them, the school aiding their escape. 

They spilled out into an empty corridor, windows blasted open in the carnage, and the cool air wrapped around them as they paused to catch their breath. 

_The lovely, long-haired Durmstrang quidditch captain, poised to move on to the major leagues once he graduated, here for the Tri-Wizard tournament. Yuuri hadn’t... Wizard culture was still so new to him, so when he’d gotten his Hogwarts acceptance letter, he’d drunk in every new detail, every sport his little muggle-born world didn’t have. There was Viktor, barely fourteen and still plastered all over posters, smiling this sweet, heart-shaped smile and waving as if only to Yuuri._

_Falling in love with him had been easy. Meeting him had been a dream. Having Viktor fall for him, just the same, well -_

_That had been a miracle._

It was so, so cold. Yuuri let out a sob and curled into himself, kneeling in agony on the stone floor. His breath constricted, his hands began to shake.

_“Won’t you dance with me, Yuuri Katsuki?”_

_Yuuri squeaked. “What, me?”_

_Viktor laughed, low and lovely. “No, the man standing beside you.”_

_It took Yuuri a moment to swallow his disappointment, then a moment more to realize that there wasn’t anyone standing beside him. He flushed, tips of his ears going as red as Viktor’s robes._  

_They twirled to a waltz, chubby fourteen year old Yuuri pressed against the darling of Durmstrang, three years his senior. Viktor’s long hair tickled Yuuri’s fingers, pressed firmly into Viktor’s back._

Yuuri longed to feel Viktor’s hair now, but he wasn’t there. He was likely dead, if not buried under a pile of rubble, finished off by the Death Eaters that had been chasing them. He was so strong, but was he strong enough to fight so many at once?

A wave of nausea made Yuuri hunch over, nose nearly pressed into the floor.

“Oh, shit, Yuuri... Oh god, we need to get out of here.”

_The music ended in a final trill, and Viktor’s hand squeezed the small of his back, their bodies pressed so much closer than they’d been at the beginning. A curtain of silver hair tickled the side of Yuuri’s face, so all he could see were those brilliant blue eyes._

_He could hear everyone’s whispers, the smirking at the precocious, scheming mudblood out to sully Viktor’s pure family line, but he met Viktor’s gaze steadily. His heart thudded in his chest, his palms shook, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Viktor._

_I’m good enough for you, he thought. And Yuuri cupped Viktor’s cheek, stood on his tip-toes, and kissed him._

Not good enough to save you, Yuuri thought, energy draining down into the floor. His vision of Viktor’s lips was how soft they were, how warm and pliant they became as they kissed. Now, they’d be cold and stiff, his body icy and his heartbeat gone-

“Ohhh, shit. Okay, okay, we can - we can get out of this. Yuuri, I need you to help me. They’ve blocked us in, but we can get out of here, I t-think, I just need-”

_They wrote letters every day once the summer began, then continuously for the three ensuing years. Viktor asked about muggle sports, like ice skating - Yuuri swore he’d take him one day. Viktor told him how he’d bewitch his boots to slide on ice like skates, how when he was a child, he’d twirl and spin across the frozen lakes in his homeland of Russia._

_He charmed each letter, so that if Yuuri kissed it, he could feel Viktor’s lips through the paper. It was perfect, it was a dream -_

_It all came to an end when Yuuri was seventeen and Viktor was twenty, and every single muggleborn, Yuuri included, needed to go into hiding. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Viktor again._

And now he never would.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, please help me, please don’t give up, you know my Patronus isn’t corporeal yet, fuck,  _expecto patronum-”_

_“I saw you practicing against the boggart with Professor Cialdini,” Viktor murmured. Yuuri froze and almost stumbled mid-step in their waltz, all those years ago. “You kept trying, again and again. I was so intrigued, so impressed with your determination. Not many people can face their fear head on like you did.”_

_“Everyone was laughing at me,” Yuuri whispered, flushing, “Who... Who cries in the middle of class? Because of a stupid boggart? No one else did.”  
_

_Viktor chuckled. “Well, after you show them how hard you worked, they won’t be laughing anymore.”_

Someone barreled into him, and Yuuri snapped out of his thoughts to a terrified Phichit, eyes filled with tears, burying his face in Yuuri’s robes. A thick fog filled the corridor, and Yuuri looked around with a dawning horror. 

Dementors, at least a dozen, floating through the blown-out windows and gaping holes in the wall. Drawn in by his despair, his hopelessness, and now they were going to take Phichit from him too. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sobbed, because his hands were shaking too hard for him to concentrate, “I’m sorry, Phichit, I -  _Expecto Patronum!”_

A thin silver mist came from the end of his want, a light against the fog for just a moment. It was too weak, though, and it dissipated into nothingness. 

They were getting closer. 

Yuuri gripped Phichit, grit his teeth, and wiped his eyes furiously. This was his fault, entirely his fault, he’d been so heartbroken and now he was going to suffer a fate worse than death. Worse, he was letting Phichit down, too, Phichit, barely fifteen years old, his only friend, and it was all because Viktor was-

* * *

“I’m not dead.” The tears in Viktor’s eyes betrayed the smile on his lips, and Yuuri could tell by the twitch of his fingers how he ached to touch, to feel Yuuri’s skin. Half of the other students in the Room of Requirements were staring at them, the other half crowding around other reunited couples, or holding grieving friends and lovers.

Yuuri let out a shaky laugh. “I’m not dead either,” Yuuri breathed. Then, because he’d just registered something other than Viktor’s eyes, he gaped in horror. “You cut your hair!” 

Viktor laughed, a beautiful sound that dissolved into a sob. “Long hair that’s been on every magazine cover since I was eleven doesn’t go so well with government resistance.”

“Well,” Yuuri whispered, every muscle in his body aching to pull Viktor to him and kiss him senseless, “It goes pretty well with living in the woods, on the run for months.”

“It suits you,” Viktor said. “The hair, I mean.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, gripping the lapel of Viktor’s robes. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Oh, how he did. Yuuri’s body was on fire, his heart pounding and  _aching_  with desire for more. 

He barely even registered the cheers coming up from around him. It didn’t matter that he was dirty and sweaty from being on the run, Viktor clung to him like it would cause him physical pain to let go. 

Eventually, they needed to separate, if only to breathe. Their faces were so close that their breath mingled, that a sea of blue was the only thing Yuuri saw. He shifted uncomfortably, aware that life on the run hadn’t given him the most pleasing musk, but Viktor didn’t seem to mind. 

“I should probably shower,” Yuuri said.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed, not letting go. 

“Do you want to come with me?” Yuuri murmured against Viktor’s lips. 

Viktor flushed. “I... Yes. God yes. But, um...” He sighed. “Shared bathrooms.”

Yuuri tried not to let his disappointment show. Viktor followed him to the bathroom, still, waited outside the stall for him to come out and presented him with towel, which Yuuri wrapped around himself gratefully. 

“I wish,” Yuuri murmured, “We could go somewhere private.”

Beside them, a door appeared in the bathroom wall. Yuuri blinked.

“Room of Requirement,” Viktor said with a laugh.

* * *

“Expecto patronum,  _expecto patronum-”_

“Oh my god, Yuuri, we’re going to die-”

* * *

Viktor’s hands were soft, gentle, as they pulled the towel from Yuuri’s body, leaving him bare. He gasped at the slight chill, flushed down to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his naked stomach.

“I’ve uh, gotten skinnier,” Yuuri murmured, going for humor because he was too hot and too cold and completely naked in front of Viktor, who stared at his body like he wanted to drink in every inch of bare skin.

Viktor frowned. “That won’t do,” he tutted, pulling Yuuri to his clothed chest. His hands lingered on the sharp edges of his shoulder blades, protruding from his back, slid down the bumps of his spin, and settled on his ass. “Once this is over, we’ll have the kitchens make you a whole tray of pumpkin pasties.”

“Katsudon,” Yuuri mumbled, finding it hard to think as Viktor kneaded the taught muscles in his ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh with practiced grace. He let out a whimper and buried his head in Viktor’s neck, inhaling the scent from his sweet skin. 

Viktor laughed. “And Katsudon.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri whined, “You need to be naked, too.” 

“Oh,” Viktor murmured, “Do you want to help me with that?”

Yuuri nodded, unable to speak. His hands shook as he slid open the clasps of Viktor’s robes, a dark, understated brown - so different from the bright red of his Durmstrang attire. His hands hesitated on the waistband of Viktor’s pants, and Viktor nuzzled against Yuuri’s forehead, placing his palms over the back of Yuuri’s hands as they guided his pants off together. 

Viktor naked was just as breathtaking as Yuuri had imagined it in his dreams a dozen times. His skin was smooth, pale as a marble statue, marred only by a jagged scar over his heart. Yuuri pressed his fingers to the scar, frowning, and Viktor took those fingers and pressed his lips to them.

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered, a shadow over his eyes. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

“Okay,” Yuuri responded, breathless, “Okay, Viktor.” 

Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. They kissed there, in the empty room, a whirlwind of touches and pecks as Viktor lead Yuuri back to the bed. 

Viktor was on top of him, his hands shaking, as if he was afraid Yuuri would disappear with the next touch. Yuuri soothed him by stroking Viktor’s cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tear that had welled up in Viktor’s eyes. He pulled Viktor back down to him, not wanting an inch of space between them, and swiped at Viktor’s lips with his tongue, tentatively. 

Viktor laughed through his tears as Yuuri grabbed his ass, nodding in satisfaction at it’s muscled perfection. He opened his mouth pliantly, letting Yuuri slip his tongue inside and taste every crevice.

They kissed as Viktor worked Yuuri open with his long fingers, Yuuri gasping. A few hot, wet teardrops dripped onto his cheeks, his chest as Viktor moved. 

“Please don’t laugh at me,” Viktor gasped out, wiping his eyes, “I don’t usually cry during sex, I just... I missed you.”

Tears welled up in Yuuri’s eyes and he kissed Viktor again, stole the breath from his lungs. “I missed you too, Vitya. I love you.”

Viktor let out something that was half a laugh, half a sob, as he slid into Yuuri. “I love you too, Yuuri. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me ever again.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri gasped out, overwhelmed by sensation as Viktor began thrusting shallowly, then deeper, harder. “I won’t, I’ll never leave you - we’ll get married, Vitya, once it’s over.” 

“I’ll marry you,” Viktor grunted, kissing the tears from Yuuri’s cheeks, lips pressing sloppily against the sides of Yuuri’s mouth, “I’d marry you now, if I could. I love you, Yuuri, I love you, I love you-”

* * *

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

A burst of brilliant silver light erupted from the end of Yuuri’s wand, and an intense warmth spread through his limbs. His patronus, a precious little toy poodle, seemed to bark, as real as his beloved Vicchan as he leapt at the swarm of dementors. 

The poodle leaped at them, bounding to form a silver-lit circle around Yuuri and Phichit. The dementors fled, their ratty black cloaks billowing in the wind as they squeezed through the windows and into the night.

A weight, heavy as lead, lifted from Yuuri’s heart. Suddenly, it didn’t seem as hopeless.

He had been separated from Viktor, but that didn’t mean he was dead. The easiest way to know he was alive was to throw himself back into the battle - to help it end, so they could be together. And there was no point in going catatonic at a  _might be_. If Viktor turned out to be dead, well, that was a different story - but Yuuri would deal with that later.

Phichit gasped out a sob, still clutching Yuuri’s side. 

“Phichit,” Yuuri breathed, wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him close, rocking him from side to side. “Phichit, I’m so, so sorry. I almost-” 

His voice cracked, and he hid his face in shame. His mental weakness had almost cost them their souls - it had been too close. Too close.

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” Phichit hiccuped. He was shaking all over, his breathing shallow and frantic. 

Yuuri winced. “I’m sorry,” He whispered again. “You... You should go back. Go back to the room of requirement, where it’s safe. Where I can’t... Where I can’t screw up like this again.”

“No,” Phichit hissed, fiercely, “No, Yuuri. You’re muggleborn, you’re more of a target than I am. I’m not leaving you.”

Yuuri’s heart swelled. He took a moment of peace in the silent corridor to hold Phichit, to let Phichit bury his face in the crook of his neck. They breathed together, calming each other down. 

Finally, Yuuri spoke. “Let’s get back to the others,” he hissed, eyes flashing with determination. “Let’s end this, once and for all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter comin atcha sooner than expected! Also written fairly quickly. I kind of feel bad that I'm not expanding this into the greater HP universe, but I don't have the time. :P Also, I did the math for their ages, and in spring of his seventh year, Yuuri would be eighteen and Viktor 21, so there's no underage at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked the conclusion!

The world became a clanging cacophony as soon as they left the corridor. It was as though they’d stepped through a stage curtain and suddenly, there was the audience - but instead of cheering came the  _ shriek _ of battle, the clanging of spells against every surface. 

Yuuri grit his teeth, linking his hand with Phichit’s for comfort, and steeled himself for whatever awaited them in the great hall. 

A quick scan of the surroundings yielded chaos - Yuuri could barely pick out bodies among the swarm of black and blue and red and gold, the lights spurting up like fireworks into the cavernous hall. 

His heart swelled as he saw Chris, an older friend of his from Ravenclaw, still sensual even in the way he sent colors flying from his wand. And there was Leo, gasping as he lead a limping Guang Hong away from the fray, blood as red as the Gryffindor robes he wore dripping from his lip. 

Even JJ, a boisterous Slytherin who had lead a well-meaning, if idiotic, attempt to reconcile between Death Eaters and muggleborns before everything got too bad, had apparently picked a side - and Yuuri couldn’t help the spark of fondness as he saw JJ’s hands shake as he shot a non-verbal stunning spell at a mass of cloaked black.

Yuuri and Phichit ducked just in time to avoid an evil flash of green, then dodged the resulting debris as stone crumbled to dust above them. Yuuri snarled at the black-clad figures coming towards them and ran his thumb along his wand - the sweet cherry wood that formed its length, the dragon heartstring pulsing in time with his own. 

“Stupefy!” he shouted, eyes flashing in determination as a spurt of red light knocked one Death Eater back.

“Expelliarmus!” Phichit shrieked, and another flash of red made a second’s wand go flying. Yuuri finished that one off with gritted teeth and a stunning spell that cracked louder than a thunderbolt in his ears. 

Twin red lights, twin stunning spells, hit the third, and Yuuri’s heart jolted in his chest as he caught the flash of emerald green underneath the black cloak - slytherin robes. He wanted to unmask that Death Eater, wanted to shake them until their eyes rattled, and shout,  _ did you know me? _

_ I was your housemate, did you watch me grow for seven years and want me dead the entire time, just because of some dumb blood purity rules? _

Yuuri had made friends in his house, despite its reputation. The fact that he’d been sorted into Slytherin had been a shock, though as a wide-eyed eleven year old he couldn’t have known that much less understood why. He loved his house, loved former slytherin Professor Cialdini who always took time to make sure Yuuri understood not just the mechanics of magic but the intricacies of the strange new world he’d found himself in - a world that wasn’t always kind to people like him. 

He loved it, but that hadn’t stopped his heart from aching when he was told they’d made  _ mudblood _ the new common room password, no matter how harshly Professor Cialdini had disciplined the then head boy and girl for going above his head and changing it. 

And that hadn’t stopped his dorm-mate of six years from selling out his family’s location to the Death Eaters, forcing them to go into hiding and Yuuri to barely escape with his life and his wand, confining him to a year on the run, not sure who to trust or where to go.

“Stupefy!” 

The Great Hall was lit up like Christmas, red and green lights from disarming and stunning and killing. Phichit moved with such grace as he twirled right into the thick of it, Yuuri following with a shield charm that protected his friend as he sent out spell after spell.

They’d attracted a cluster of Death Eaters - Yuuri’s was a familiar face on wanted posters throughout Wizarding Britain, his  _ anti-state propaganda  _ decried in the Daily Prophet in numerous scathing articles about his filthy blood, the supposed love potion he’d slipped Durmstrang’s Darling to make him join the resistance. 

Some had skull masks, others proudly kept their faces uncovered. Yuuri didn’t look at them - he didn’t want to see his classmates poised to kill him. He didn’t want to think about Viktor, the way they’d dragged his name through the mud, targeted his friends and family because they knew it would hurt Yuuri more than any personal insult could. 

Beyond the Death Eaters was a bright red flash of robes, and for a moment in the delirium Yuuri imagined a shock of silver hair and piercing blue eyes - only to freeze at the grizzled old face and bald head. 

_ Yakov? _

Yuuri’s heart stuttered and he struggled to keep the shield up against the onslaught of spells. Yakov caught his eye and turned to him, striking terror deep into Yuuri as he raised his arm. 

He’d need to re-do the shield charm which was rapidly weakening, he’d need to protect Phichit-

A bright red light, and Yuuri almost shrieked. He couldn’t do nonverbal spells, he couldn’t move fast enough, he was helpless-

The light slid past his ear. There was an agonized  _ howl _ , and Yuuri swung around in terror to find a Death Eater crumpling behind him, green sparks from an unfinished spell fizzling out at the tip of his wand. 

Another pop of red robes, then a third, then a fourth - and the cluster of Death Eaters surrounding them turned, only to be stunned by four jets of brilliant scarlet light and a resounding cry of  _ Stupefy  _ from the group. 

“Wow, Yuuri,” Phichit breathed, “I thought they hated you.” 

Yuuri barely had time to think before it was over. The gaggle of enemies that they’d been fighting were all out cold on the ground, and  _ Yakov Feltsman _ was striding towards Yuuri with a determined glare in his eye. 

Somehow, that was even more terrifying. Yuuri kept his wand up, ready to strike if need be.

Yakov stopped short right in front of Yuuri, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry for how I treated you, before.” 

Yuuri didn’t speak. His eyes widened, but he didn’t put the wand down. 

“I’m sorry,” Yakov continued, with obvious effort. “For questioning your integrity, both as a wizard and as a person. And I’m not saying this just because of how happy you’ve made Vitya - I’m saying this because you’re a great wizard in your own right, no matter your blood status. I should’ve realized that sooner.” 

Then, without missing a beat, he deflected a stunning spell just before it connected with Yuuri’s skull. Yuuri yelped and flinched away. 

“I’m sorry too,” piped up a witch with a shock of red hair - Mila, Yuuri remembered, stomach churning as he remembered her nasty looks. “And so’s this little kitten.” 

Yuri, whose barbed tongue would have hurt far worse if he hadn’t been eleven when Yuuri met him during the Triwizard Tournament, scowled up at Mila. He nodded, though, and shot a sheepish look in Yuuri’s direction. 

“Good,” Yuuri spluttered out, unable to quash his petty vindication. “Because we’re getting married. As soon as this is over.”

Yakov didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t even snort and exclaim,  _ you’re eighteen, he’s twenty-one - you’re far too young to be getting married _ . 

“Vitya disappeared just before his birthday,” Yakov said, slowly, finally, “To fight against You-Know-Who, we figured out. We found a collection of your columns, some bewitched recorders that played back what you said on air about the resistance. We didn’t approve of what they were doing to muggleborns before, but… You convinced us to fight, officially. I’m happy for you both.” 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. A lump formed in his throat, and he took a deep, shaky breath - then he hugged Yakov. Yakov made a noise of deep, deep surprise, and his body stiffened for an instant. He relaxed into it though, his hand patting Yuuri on the back tentatively. 

“Do we really have time for this?” Phichit protested. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you but-”

As if on cue, there was a loud _ crack _ , an explosion of color and sound that Yakov and Yuuri barely managed to deflect before they were hit. 

“Oh, you fucking _ bastard _ ,” Yuri snapped, “ _ Stupefy!  _ Beka, come with me!” Phichit moved to follow them, but Yuri turned to him, lip curling in contempt. “Stay here - you’ll slow us down”

Phichit glared, not quite forgiving their slights against Yuuri so easily, and snapped, “How about we see whether Durmstrang or Hogwarts teaches its fifth years better?”

Yuri looked skeptical. 

Phichit, red-faced, grabbed him by the lapel and shouted, “What, afraid a half-blood might be better than you?”

Yuri blinked, then he snorted, no malice in his expression. “I’m a half-blood too,” he muttered. He shook Phichit free and said, “You better keep up.”

Phichit ran after him, red light spinning from his wand like ribbons and hitting Death Eaters in the chest, the face, the legs. 

“Levicorpus!” Phichit shouted, and there as a wail as a black-cloaked figure flew into the air, suspended by the ankles. Yuri ran up to him and punched him in the face, repeatedly. 

“Ooh, that looks fun,” Mila giggled, winking in Yuuri’s direction. 

Graceful as a gazelle, she leapt over a tumbled tower, and spat out, “Incendio!” 

Fire, white hot and terrifying, fanned out in an arc from her wand. There were yelps, shouts of pain as the Death Eaters scrambled to escape the ring of fire. 

A warm wind from the flames rustled Yuuri’s hair, and he blinked at the heat on his cheeks. Yakov nodded at him, and Yuuri understood immediately - the two of them stood back to back, surrounded by a crescent of black cloaked figures. 

“Stupefy!” Yuuri shouted, recognizing the familiar flash of red from Yakov’s wand, as well.

“Protego!” Yuuri cried as a barrage of red descended on him at once. He stumbled back at the force of multiple spells at once, and Yakov reached a hand back to steady him as they moved in circles. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

In a split second, Yuuri reacted, tackling Yakov to the ground just in time to miss the killing curse. It hit a death eater across the way, and Yuuri’s stomach lurched at the way she collapsed to the ground, crumpling like a broken table. 

“You  _ idiot _ ,” a Death Eater snapped. “Once we’re over, the Dark Lord will-”

Red light hit him, square in the chest, and he gripped at it like it had stopped as he fell back. 

Yuuri grinned at Yakov, who nodded back at him, and Yuuri raised his wand as something flew from midair-

Everything was dark.

Yuuri froze. His hands reached out, but Yuuri couldn’t see them through the thick black. From somewhere around him, he heard Yakov snarl, “Peruvian instant darkness powder.”

“Lumos,” Yuuri cried out, though he couldn’t see his wand in his hand, couldn’t see anything. “Lumos!” he cried again. 

An ear-shattering  _ crack _ resounded from right behind him, and the next thing Yuuri knew, he was flying through the air - outside the circle of darkness powder, in an arc above the Death Eaters-

His head hit the wall, and everything went black.

It could have been moments, it could have been longer, but Yuuri came to with a splitting headache and an agonized groan. Everything was blurry, and a fumbling hand pressed to his face revealed he’d lost his glasses. There was bright red in front of him, a slim figure with blonde hair and a stocky silver haired man.

“Viktor,” Yuuri mumbled under his breath, patting around him for his glasses. His wand, too, where was his wand? Without his glasses, he had no hope of finding his wand, but without his wand, his glasses were as good as gone. 

His heart hurt as he lay there on the ground, head throbbing angrily and a wet trickle of blood dripping from his hairline. He knew that wasn’t Viktor - it had only been his muddled, pounding head wishing for someone who Yuuri had no idea if he was even still alive. 

Yakov and Yuri fought frantically in front of him, while Yuuri pat around for his glasses. 

Another shriek of a spell, and Yakov stumbled away, hit. Yuuri heard Yuri’s voice, high-pitched and terrified, and in his split-second hesitation he’d been separated away, fighting desperately as two Death Eaters closed in around Yuuri. 

Where was his wand?

Yuuri whimpered, managing to bring himself up to his knees. The face above him was a blurry, grotesque skull. 

“I read some of your pro-mudblood filth,” the Death Eater snarled. He brought his wand to Yuuri’s forehead, tapped it twice. Yuuri moaned in pain as another dull  _ throb _ made the world around him fade at the edges. “I can’t wait to split you in two and show everyone how dirty your blood  _ really _ is.”

_ Where was his wand _ ?

Then, Yuuri paused. The Death Eater breathed in, out, in, his rattling breaths sending waves of hot terror down Yuuri’s spine-

_ I’m a muggleborn. I lived the first eleven years of my life without a wand _ .

Yuuri tackled him. 

The Death Eater hadn’t been expecting it, clearly, and he let out a girlish shriek as Yuuri pulled him down to the floor. It was so hard to see, everything was blurry, but Yuuri heard the clattering of a wand and a discharged spell fly off into the distance as the Death Eater dropped it in his shock.

Yuuri grabbed him, rolled him onto his back with surprising ease. There was little resistance, little to indicate that the Death Eater had even been in a physical fight in his life. Everything hurt, an awful throbbing agony, but Yuuri clenched his hand into a fist and  _ punched _ .

With shaking hands, Yuuri pulled off that ugly mask to reveal the blurry face beneath it. He hit the fuzzy white skin again and again, not pausing when bright red bled into the whirl of indistinguishable color in front of his eyes. 

The wand had fallen just out of reach, and Yuuri pressed his knee into the Death Eater’s chest to reach over and grab it-

“Crucio!”

Yuuri’s head split in two. Or, at least, it felt like it was splitting, a slow, agonizing burn as bits of skull chipped off and the flesh tore-

His body was on fire, hurting almost as bad as his head. Needles, stuck through his joints, his nails ripped off in bloody crescents, teeth pulled out from his gums. It was real, it must’ve been real, because Yuuri tasted blood on his tongue as he  _ screamed _ .

The world convulsed around him, the black swirl in front of his eyes scrambling back to join a second just a few feet away. Splotches of red shook and quaked, trying to get closer to the edge of his vision but being unable to. Barriers of noise and noise and noise and  _ pain _ .

“ _ Sectumsempra _ !”

Suddenly, everything stopped. For just a moment, there was cool blackness, a warm wet trickle down his cheeks and chin, the stone floor soothing against his burning flesh. No sound, no light, no world. 

Yuuri gasped, deep and shuddering, and rolled over onto his stomach. 

“Accio, Yuuri’s glasses!” 

A white hand held out his blue frames, and Yuuri quaked as he took them - or was the world around him still spinning? 

Yuuri put the glasses on and blinked up to see-

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed. Then, tears filled his eyes, blurring them all over again, and he wailed, “ _ Viktor!” _

Viktor helped Yuuri to his feet, pressing sweet kisses to his hands and the wet corners of his eyes.

When had he started crying? 

There was a puffy burn scar on Viktor’s cheek, and some of his hair had been singed, but he was there, alive, so blessedly  _ alive _ . His expression was terrifying - a deep, piercing fury that Yuuri had never seen before, and though Yuuri could feel the warmth of his skin the ice in his eyes could’ve frozen fiendfyre. 

Yuuri turned, pressed so comfortably to Viktor’s side, and all the color drained from his face. The Death Eater who had been torturing him was staring, stock-still, blood spurting from a slice that had cut clean through his clothing to carve a deep  _ X _ into his flesh. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, “Did you-”

“Hush, my love,” Viktor murmured, kissing him on the nose. The look in his eyes made Yuuri’s heart jolt wildly in his chest, chilled to the bone in fear. “I’m here now. I’m here.” Then, he turned to the terrified Death Eater with his wand out. “ _ Avada Kedav _ -”

“No!” Yuuri shrieked, cutting him off with a desperate kiss. “Viktor, no!”

Viktor’s eyes didn’t soften, his gaze didn’t waver. “He never should have done that to you.”

“I know,” Yuuri cried, voice cracking into a sob, “I know, but Vitya, please, I’m here. I’m here, and I’m okay. I’m alive. We’re both alive. Look at me, my darling, look at me.” 

Viktor turned to him, finally, meeting his gaze so intently that Yuuri almost flinched back. He widened his eyes, took a deep, stuttering breath. All of the cold, bone-chilling fury seemed to melt out of him, and he shook as he brought his trembling hand up to Yuuri’s cheek, running his thumb along Yuuri’s pink lips.

“I,” he stammered, “I, oh my god, I almost-”

Yuuri kissed him, quick and deep, memorizing the shape of his lips and the taste of his mouth. “I’m alive,” he breathed into Viktor, and Viktor laughed with tears in his eyes. “And you’re alive, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Viktor murmured back.

They pulled apart far too soon, but the threat of battle hadn’t left even though they were together. Viktor stared in contempt at the two Death Eaters, trembling as they watched him, and sent them both flying with non-verbal stunning spells in a brilliant flash of red light.

Time stood still, with Yuuri watching Viktor and Viktor watching him. Suddenly, the chaotic battle became ordered, every moving piece following a set path with only so many outcomes - and Yuuri found he could follow all of them. His spellwork was precise and cutting, flames to clear an area, stunning to stop a stray Death Eater from coming up from the side and surprising them. 

There was Yakov, alive if a little bruised, sending out brilliant arcs of scarlet and green while Yuri shot quick bursts of stunning spells like machinegun fire. Phichit and Otabek and Mila, back to back to back, Phichit giggling as he shot the rubble at the cloaked figures around him, his wand a slingshot of deadly accuracy. Fire, beautiful and deadly, a triumphant arc that illuminated Mila’s bright red hair. 

Chris, Leo, Guang Hong, JJ - and Professor Cialdini, eyes sparkling from across the hall, his big booming laugh resounding like thunder as they all pushed the Death Eaters back, back, back-

Purple, green, red, blue, gold. The hall was alight with spells like fireworks.

* * *

 

_ “Yuuri, you’ll write to me, won’t you?”  _

_ Green and silver, blue and silver, yellow and black, red and gold. Viktor’s face lit up in brilliant colors, shimmering off his silver hair, as fireworks signalled the last inter-school dinner before Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would depart back to their homelands. He looked nervous, so unlike him, and he fiddled with the end of his long braid.  _

_ “Of course,” Yuuri breathed, still wondering if he was caught in a beautiful dream. Viktor and him - beautiful, wonderful Viktor. Yuuri still had braces, for god’s sake. What did Viktor see in him?  _

_ “You are a talented wizard,” Viktor smiled, as if he could read Yuuri’s mind. “You doubt yourself, but you never let that stop you. Please, Yuuri, never stop surprising me.”  _

_ “I won’t,” Yuuri assured him, wondering what that meant. Behind him him, a grizzled old man wearing the Durmstrang red glared at him, and a mixture of nausea and determination churned in his gut. “Um, Viktor…” _

_ “Yes, my Yuuri?” Viktor asked, eyes sparkling.  _

_ Yuuri kissed him, then, with the beautiful lights illuminating his face. Viktor made a noise of surprise before melting into the touch, his arms wrapped around Yuuri like the warmth of his winter cloak. _

_ I have him, Yuuri thought, and no one will take him away from me. _

* * *

 

The battle ended with a great cry that faded into a whisper.

A resounding chorus, echoing through the Great Hall from outside. “He’s dead,” they called, a chorus of voices. “He’s dead, he’s  _ finally dead-” _

In the aftermath of the battle, there was a terrible stillness. Where movement had been frantic before, now it was slow, sluggish. Those who had medical knowledge flitted about to shell-shocked fighters, patching up scars and healing the worst of magic-burns and convulsions. 

Then, there was the task of seeing to the dead. Bodies, pulled out from under rubble. Even the mourning was quiet, the subtle sobs and grief-stricken muteness. 

Someone attended to the burn on Viktor’s cheek, to Yuuri’s nose, which he hadn’t even realized was bleeding. His head throbbed, and Yuuri felt the strange need for an ibuprofin. He wondered if there was a magical equivalent.

Yuuri still hadn’t found his wand, but there was time. There was… There was all the time in the world, now. No frantic hiding, no quick disapparition to the middle of the forest, no manuscripts submitted under the cover of nightfall to people Yuuri had no idea if he could trust. 

“What,” he thought out loud, “Do I want to do first? Now that it’s over?”

“Marry me,” Viktor said, automatically. 

Yuuri pondered that. “But I want my family at the wedding, and they’re still in hiding.” 

“Okay, so we get your family, and then we get married,” Viktor nodded sagely. 

“What about Makkachin?” Yuuri fretted. “He’s supposed to be our ring bearer.”

Viktor burst out laughing, earning him a glare from the nurse spreading some foul-smelling ointment on Viktor’s face.

“Okay,” he agreed, “First your family, then we get Makka,  _ then _ we get married.”

Yuuri felt Viktor stiffen from his position, resting his head on Viktor’s thigh. He blinked up to see a flurry of red approaching.

“Yakov,” Viktor said, stiffly.

“Vitya,” Yakov growled. “Yuuri.” 

Yuuri smiled up at him. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he mumbled. 

Viktor blinked at him in surprise. Yakov cleared his throat, a little sheepish.

“I figured I owed you an apology as well,” he sighed. “For… For doubting you. For not seeing Yuuri’s strengths.”

“Yakov saved me,” Yuuri mumbled, running his thumb over Viktor’s thigh. 

Yakov rubbed the back of his neck. “Yuuri was a great help during the battle. You should’ve seen it - he’d lost his wand, and his glasses, but he  _ tackled _ this massive Death Eater. Would’ve knocked him out cold, too, if there hadn’t been a second one behind him.” 

The memory of the cruciatus curse flashed in Yuuri’s mind and he shuddered, full bodied. 

Viktor’s hand gripped his shoulder, warm comfort in the drafty hall. Yuuri grabbed the hand, squeezed it.

“Well,” Viktor said, flatly. “I guess I’ll invite you to the wedding, then.” 

Yakov laughed, a surprisingly soft sound. Viktor smiled at him, tentatively. It was a quiet sort of peace, and the couple watched Yakov as he walked back to his gaggle of Durmstrang kids. Yuri was flat on his back, snoring loud enough that they could hear it from their seat across the hall. 

A house elf wandered towards them, carrying a steaming bowl of something. Yuuri blinked as the elf placed the bowl in front of him, and a familiar smell wafted up.

“Is this,” Yuuri breathed, “Is this…?”

“Katsudon,” the house elf squeaked, bowing low. Viktor smiled and handed the elf a coin, who took it with a grateful salute. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri moaned, eyes and mouth watering. 

“Are you surprised?” Viktor asked, eyes twinkling like starlight.

Yuuri nodded, dumbly, and shifted positions to sit up. “I love you, Vitya,” he whispered, wiping away a sudden flood of tears from his eyes.

Viktor turned to him, and Yuuri saw his eyes were watering, too. He kissed Yuuri, holding up a piece of pork cutlet with chopsticks and bringing it to Yuuri’s lips. “I love you too, Yuuri,” he said, voice cracked.

They shared the katsudon by the twinkling starlight of the Great Hall ceiling. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe my sappy ass wrote them having sex after being apart as the key to Yuuri conjuring a patronus :P 
> 
> I'm being pretty vague about how exactly this fits, or doesn't fit, into the HP universe, because I don't want to turn this into a whole big multi-chapter thing haha, but let me know if it's confusing.


End file.
